


Labyrinth

by KassandraRose



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Gotham - Fandom, The Joker - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Gotham, Gotham City Police Department, Romance, The Joker - Freeform, Thriller, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassandraRose/pseuds/KassandraRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When GCPD trainee, Cassidy Tenner, starts investigating the deaths of her loved ones, she finds herself in a situation that's impossible to escape. With a green haired megalomaniac obsessing over her, a mysterious enemy hunting her down, and her dead boyfriend's brother arriving to town, things begin to get a little complicated. The crime buster quickly becomes the crime maker, and enemies are indistinguishable from friends. Join her as she ventures through DC's most famous playground, battling heroes and villains alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Entrance

"Are you even listening, Tenner?" Officer Henderson muttured, cigar clenched between his coffee stained teeth. 

"Yes".

"No, you're not".

If he was going to answer his own question, Cassidy couldn't help but wonder why the bloody hell he had bothered to ask. It was a known fact, Kaiden Henderson loved the sound of his own voice. There was nothing he loved more than grinding down on the fresh meat, making them suffer pretentious speeches about righteousness. It was ironic, since there wasn't an ounce of righteousness in his body. 

He hated women, thought they were better at home than in law enforcement. What good would a woman be to his team? And, unfortunately, Cassidy had been assigned to shadow him to learn. He was her newest omen, a sign that maybe the job was not for her. Not that she would ever confess them thoughts. She'd worked damn well hard to get to where she was now and she wasn't going to give in - not for Henderson, not for anything. 

"What did I say then? Tell me the main point," his voice demanding, stubborn, nasal. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she rubbed it sheepishly. A consideration of being an ultimate kiss ass lingered in her head. It was a possibility that she could tell him 'all of the points were valid' and that she 'couldn't pick one', but the idea sickened her. The satisfaction that it would bring the sexist facist was not worth dodging the bullet.

"Frankly, there didn't seemed to be one, sir," Tenner replied with a shrug, "at least not one that stuck out to me". A cheeky smile crept onto her lips, tugging the corners up towards her eyes. It was soon swiped. Henderson slammed his fist on the car front, his unkempt mustache twitching like a broken headlight. 

"You listen here, Tenner, you listen good," He shoved her back on the car bonnet, putting out his cigar dangerously close to her porcelain skin. "I'm not afraid to hit a girl, never have been-" He stopped. His body went limp, blood dripped from his head and stained her pressed uniform. Having never been much affected by blood, although admittably a little shook up from the sudden death, Cassidy's hand immediately found its way to her Smith & Wesson M&P 9. The body was brushed off with her spare hand, and she aimed at the direction the bullet had been fired. 

There were eight people, in total, that Cassidy had seen die before today. Henderson brought the number up to nine. The first two had been her parents. The third was her sister and, unsurprisingly, the fourth had been her ex boyfriend. Death seemed to be an unavoidable stench that had followed her since she was born. It was inescapable, and impossible to wash away.

Not that there was anything special about Cassidy Tenner, but her parents had died in an accident when she was just fourteen. The police force had called it an accident, but GPD had never been known for being truthful. For years, the teenager had obsessed over her parents death, so much that it consumed her. Her bedroom became a shrine to the cause, filled with similar cases and patterns. Whilst other teens fawned over the latest pop star, or even the ever rising Batman, she was losing her mind trying to connect one case to another.

Her sister had warned her not to get involved. Not only was it unhealthy, but dangerous. Mr and Mrs Tenner had been connected to some dark people in Gotham city, during their time. Dark business was inevitably going to bring a negative end, or so she had been told, but nothing could swipe the image of her parents charred bodies from her mind. Justice, at least, would ease her nightmares. 

Her sister was always painfully right, which was one of the reasons Cassidy hated her as she grew. Jessica Tenner died two years after her parents, the same mysterious circumstances, another tragic accident. She held her sisters hand as she took her dying breath, and understandably vowed to do something to avenge her. 

She had not been quick to forget her vow, and joined Gotham University after graduating high school with a 4.0 average. There she had met her best friend, Katrina, and boyfriend, Jonathan. Katrina was a whirlwind, and fitted her name. She was the polar opposite of her best friend, glamorous and enticing. Her lucious black locks, that fell without flaw to her waist, and perfectly smooth skin, made her a wanted woman. Not that she ever wanted anyone, she found people in general rather boring and saw dating as a game rather than a search for love. Katrina had been the reason that Cassidy had met Eli, and also the reason for his departure. She was driving the car when it swivelled off the road August 11th.

In spite of her mediocrity, Cassidy Tenner survived against all odds. Was luck the reason for her living, or was she cursed to walk the world alone? It seemed more the latter, nowadays, than the former. Life was becoming ever so increasingly full of woe and dark skies. She'd got the job that she'd always dreamed of, nearly anyway, but at what cost? 

They say cats have nine lives, nine chances to learn from their mistakes. Now, Tenner was no cat. She was unmistakably human, but what if the rules worked the same for all life forms? What if we, as people, recieved nine chances to make a difference and prove ourself? This was a thought that would later pass through her mind, but right now Cassidy found herself otherwise preoccupied.

"Come out, and keep your hands where I can see them," She shouted into the darkness, to no one in particular. Her own hands locked on her gun, her arms noticeably shaking. Although she'd witnessed a lot of death, she'd never been personally responsible for any. "Now!"

There was a menacing laugh from above, something sinister. It started slow and deep, and gradually increased in speed and pitch. Her azure eyes flickered to the fire escape above her, but there was no one in sight. Not strange, not for Gotham. Tenner backed away from the metallic structure, her eyes frantically searching around. Left, clear. Right, clear. Left, a figure. A man who stood a good five inches taller than her had appeared, and looked down at her in more ways than one. A manic grin was plastered upon his face, hidden beneath an ounce of drug store red lipstick. 

The joker was an infamous figure inside the GPD, thoroughly despised by Commissioner Gordon. Unlike other criminals, the megalomaniac had no motives. Everything was a game for him, people were pawns and disposable. His outlook made him impossible to catch, to set up. 

He grunted, and licked his lips. Twisting his head so that it clicked, but not once removing his grin. "Boo!" He taunted, cackling loudly, his eyes not moving from Tenners face. They were held widely open, not once blinking. "I didn't expect to stumble here tonight," he declared, shrugging with empty hands. "I like it though. It smells of death, sweet with a little bit of human misery. Do you like death, officer?"

Do not engage with the Joker, fire if needed. That was the protocol. Cassidy didn't hesitate to raise her gun to his head. Her chest raised and dropped at a frantic speed, the world spun around her. Even faced with the threat of imminent death, the Joker laughed. This time it seemed more amused than forced.

His hand brushed his tuxedo pocket, pulling out a string with his finger through the loop. Although it looked like a child wind up toy, it was no joke. The joker was not one to play with kid's toys, he preferred to play with things that made a boom. 

"What about lights? Pretty lights?" He inched closer. "Boom! HA! HA! HA!"

"What do you want, Joker?" She asked. Her weapon still pointed, ready to shoot. If she was going down, she was taking him with her. The question was just whether she could get a good enough aim. As soon as he saw her pull the trigger, he'd set off his little grenade. There was no doubt in her mind that he would miraculously survive it too. 

"Feisty," he clicked his tongue around his mouth, as if he was trying to remove a foul taste. His painted white forehead crinkled. "I like it, but it's Mister J to you. I'm just here for a bit of fun, really. I like a show, when I'm not doing business".

"What? I-" 

"What's your name, precious?" He ignored he question, knowing too well that he didn't need to answer her. There was one person in control here, and it wasn't the cop in training.

"Fowler. Megan Fowler," she lied. If there was one thing she knew, it was never tell a criminal your identity. The Joker seemed to know this too, because he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

"Wrong answer, Tenner" He shook his head, pulled a pistol from his pocket and shot at her three times. "HA! HA! HA! Are you scared, Tenner? Do you like pretty lights, Tenner?"

Tenner, who had thrown herself to the ground instinctively, shuffled manically away from the megalomaniac. "You're mad. Insane!" She declared, her hands searching the ground blindly for her gun. "No. No, I don't like lights. Otherwise I wouldn't live in Gotham, would I?"

His eyes gleamed. "Madness is liberating. Insanity is freedom. Are you any more sane as I, or do you just pretend? I don't need to pretend; this is my city, and this is my game. You don't play games, when you're the game master," He screamed with glee. "Your parents, Tenner. They liked lights didn't they? Pretty flames. HA! HA! HA! I thought you would be the same". 

Cassidy's jaw dropped, her lips unpursing to form a small circle. Her mind tried to process the fact that he was so familiar with her parents. They had died in this city and, being big business owners, it had made the news. It hardly felt like something the Joker would memorise. Unless, he was more than familiar with what had happened. She wanted to ask, to probe him for answers, but had no time. There was an explosion from behind, one that torn apart the wall behind her. The world went dark.


	2. The Occurrence

A heavy black cloud. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Just this heaviness in her whole body. So heavy that she cannot move. She can't remember how to open her eyes, but has started to hear noises. The buzz of machines. Clicking of feet near her. Quiet talking. Cassidy lays still, straining to hear and makes sense of it all. No idea. Where am is she and why? She can feel some light shining on her closed eyes - a pink glow - but struggles to open them. Success. Her eyes open, at last. She noted that she is in a bright white place. Someone is bending over her. He says her name. And again. She tries to remember how to talk. No words come, but she blinks hard. Again he calls her. Again she tries to answer. Suddenly she clears throat, thinking she is about to shout, but all that comes out is a tiny whisper 'What happened?".

"You're awake, Cassidy! I was- wait, you remember me, right?" The grown man jumped beside her, shuffling nervously. His overgrown brown curls cascaded his face, but she knew that voice and those eyes. She could never forget one of her closest best friends, despite the blur that the last 24 hours had been.

"Of course, Lennon," She replied, her eyes flickering to the balloons and flowers nearby. There wasn't much to look at, but a lot more than she would have suspected. Some clearly had to be from her parents, the ones that had adopted her, and maybe the rest were from Lennon or Gordon. She made a mental note to ask him, before her attention was drawn to a singular purple rose. Unlike the others, it wasn't beginning to wilt. It seemed to be plastic, fake, and much larger than the rest.

"Who's the rose from?" She asked, distracted. For a moment she attempts to sit forward, but there is a crippling strike of pain up her spine. 

"Lay back, Cassipie," he commanded, rumpling her hair like an annoying older brother. "Let me check!" As he approached the table, she stared curiously at the colours. It had always been a belief of hers that plastic flowers were for death and gravestones. What kind of person would bring that into here? Unless-

"Lennon, don't touch it!" She hissed, her eyes locked upon the rose with realisation. "You need to get out of here, now. Tell them to evacuate the hospital-"

"Cass"

"No, Lennon. Listen to me. There is something in here that is going to explode. I don't know how big that impact is going to be, and for all I know it could be triggered by me moving from this bed," She explains to him, calmly, shaking her head. "Don't look at me like that. You need to press that fire alarm, now, and explain to them what's going on".

He watched her, torn. It was as if he was undecided on whether or not to obey her, or so she assumed. He knew her work, and that she wouldn't lie to him, didn't he? This was serious. Why was he looking at her with so much pity? She hadn't done anything bizarre. If she was right, which she liked to think that she often was, that rose was from the joker. It didn't make sense for him to be sending her a flower, but it didn't make sense for her to be in her at all. For some reason, her mind had attached images of an explosion to images of that flower and himself. Perhaps she had delayed one of her schemes when she had been shadowing Henderson, and now he wanted to kill her. That had to be it. Speaking of which, where was Henderson?

"Cass, the Doctor said that you have a mild concussion. The last 24 hours are going to be a bit of a blur to you," he spoke slowly, like she was an imbecile, and she hated it. His firm hand reached out and picked up the rose, I'm spite of her warnings. Nothing happened. He twiddled it between his fingers playfully before placing it beside her. "It says To, Firework, but there's no name. See though, no explosion," he paused gravely, "do you know why you expected an explosion?"

Cassidy opened her mouth to reply, but no noise came out. This time it wasn't because she was incapable of speaking, she just had nothing to say. There hadn't been a particular reason that she had been anticipating for an explosion. In fact, the idea of the Joker coming to kill her was just as bizarre as the explosion idea. She was glad that she hadn't voiced that too. "I don't know, i think I had a dream about it. I'm sorry," she lied, reaching out and grasping the bottle of water from the side. "Where is Caroline?"

Caroline was Cassidy's second mother, if you wanted to call her that. She was her mother's aunt and, for obvious reasons, Cass's godmother. The old woman had been seventy when she had adopted a fourteen year old orphan, and now was the ripe old age of eighty-four. In spite of all her years, Caroline Rogers was no deteriorating in any way. Sometimes she would joke that she was healthier than Cass, which actually might have had some truth to it. The woman eat clean, cooking all her meals from scratch. Whereas, Cass preferred the easy life of junk food and takeaways.

"She's gone shopping. After the accident, she went to your apartment for some clothes for you, but decided they were all too ugly. She said you dress like you're going through a mid-life crisis," he answered, shrugging with a tinge of playful laughter upon seeing Cassidy's face drop. "Frankly, she isn't wrong".

If Cassidy could sit forward enough to smack the smirk from Jack Lennon's face, she already would have done. The pain was simply too intolerable to do so, but she decided she would get some revenge later on. "I dress for comfort. I've got no one to please," she yawned, leaning back into her pillow, "especially, when I'm leaving hospital. Besides, I'm only twenty eight. Bloody cheeky cow. Midlife crisis? Hm".

Lennon sat at the end of her bed, his chest raising and dropping as he chuckled to himself. "Well, I'd be a bit more comfortable if you could shower soon, Queenie," he teased, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. She rolled her eyes, and batted away his hand. That was Jack, in a nutshell. He was always there to lighten a miserable mood, bring in a bit of laughter where there was gloomy silence. Everything about him was a breath of fresh air, and she loved it. She loved him, not that she would ever admit it. She was scared. Not of rejection, but of loss. Everyone that she'd ever allowed herself to get close to had died. Jack was so bright, so clever. He had so much of his life ahead of him. She wouldn't dream of casting her curse upon him.

They'd attended uni together, had met at the memorial for her lost friends. Of course, he'd provided an ounce of happiness to a life of misery, and the two had clicked. They'd kept it strictly friendship orientated, though anyone could see that he was head over heels in love with her to. He'd half admitted it to her too. When one night they'd ordered a takeaway and had their famous heart to hearts, he'd vowed to someday move far, far away from Gotham. And take her with him. Not that she had believed him, Jack Lennon was all jokes. He was never serious, or so she had thought.

He tensed, sat on her bed, as he viewed her bruises and marks from the incident. She was so gentle, so precious. She didn't realise it, but someday maybe she would. "You know Cass," he whispered, "one day, you're gona have to stop pretending that everything's okay".

"Everything is okay, L. Or at least, it will be," She replied, placing her hand on his much larger one, and giving it a small squeeze. "I still have you, remember?"

"Cass..." He began, reluctantly, but closed his mouth. It seemed that he had decided against being serious. It didn't suit him, and wasn't much fun at all. "Never mind. Do you want more water, I'm gonna go grab a bottle of coke or something from the shop".

The tension in the air lifted, as he rose, and she smiled lightly. "I wouldn't mind a vodka, right now, but I suppose that's off-limits. You never did tell me what happened... You know what, never mind. Grab me a bottle of fanta, won't you? Oh, and some snickers. Mm, I feel like I haven't ate in years," she licked her lips at the thought of food, at last, "you will explain when you get back, right?"

Jack said nothing, but gave her a sad smile. He nodded his head curtly as he made his way to the door, and Cassidy watched his back until it was no longer visible. God it was nice to see her best friend again, she could have sworn that it had been at least four years since she had last seen him. She supposed it just always felt like that when you missed somebody. Either way, it was nice to have him back again. Laughter was everything that she needed right now.

As she was sat smiling contentedly to herself, she had failed to notice the Doctor that had entered, until they flickered through their clipboards promptly. "Good morning, Miss Tenner. How are you feeling?" He questioned, clicking down his pen.

"Rather alert, now, actually. Thank you. What about yourself, Dr?" She replied politely. 

"Good. I'm doing fine. Thanks," he smiled rather bewildered. It wasn't often that a patient asked about his well being. "How is your arm feeling? You haven't knocked it, right? I told Nurse Jameson that it was a clean break, you could see that without the X-Ray, but she insisted on waiting so we could do a full body CT scan". 

"A what? How would I have broken my arm?" Cassidy's eyebrows furrowed, her forehead scrunched. None of this made sense to her. It wouldn't, since she couldn't remember why she was there in the first place. 

The Doctor simply laughed. "Not many could survive an explosion like that, Miss Tenner. That wall came down right on top of you from behind. You would have been crushed to death under the weight of those bricks, if someone hadn't immediately pulled you out. Luckily for you, you had a hero. They left before claiming a prize though, because you came in here all alone. Anyhow, the nurses will be moving you in just a moment-"

"Wait! I can't be moved, not yet. My friend is coming back now, he'll be back in a minute-"

"Friend?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and scribbled down something on his clip board. This only fustrated Cassidy a whole lot more. Why was he writing so damn much? What could he possibly be writing now? "Miss. Tenner, it's five in the morning. No one could have possibly came, visiting hours are between 9-11 AM". That didn't make sense though. Jack had been here, she knew he had been. She could have swore it. "Don't worry though," the elder man added, "hallucinations are known side effects for concussion. Right now, your brain is struggling and trying to remember how to process things correctly. It's just getting confused with your memories, reality, and imagination. If you'll excuse me anyway, I'll be right back. I just need to nip out and collect a few things".

And at last, it had clicked. Jack Lennon had never been in this room, not alive at least. He had been the sixth person she had known to die. It had happened approximately four years ago. 

But the rose still sat, moved, at the end of her bed.


	3. The Arrival

"The Joker brings death to nightclub. Death toll thought to be over 100".

The writing was there, bold and pretty damn hard to miss. Cassidy had already ready the article at least five times, now six. It was an intoxicating seed that had been planted into her brain, a weed that only grew into colossal anxiety and self disapproval. There was something that she could have done that night. If she hadn't been winding Henderson up, and they had both done their job, maybe they could have stopped the joker. Now a hundred more people were dead, added to her burden of nine. 

Since the incident, she hadn't yet returned home to her apartment other than to collect her things. Caroline had refused to leave her alone, insisting that she stayed with her for a while. There was no point in arguing when it came to the older woman. Cassidy wasn't even sure that she wanted to argue against it. Even though she brought nothing but gloom to other people's lives, she was too selfish to stay alone. She was scared right now, of herself, the darkness, the world. Scared and alone. Her memories were coming back in flashes, glimpses of the jokers taunting, but she still could not remember all of that night. It was almost as if she was missing something crucial.

Commissioner Gordon had insisted that she took time away from work to recover, physically and mentally. Gotham City will still have its criminals awaiting when you return, he had said, unfortunately. It wasn't too reassuring to hear that, but Gordon was a good man who meant well. She knew he had only been trying to help. 

There wasn't much to do at home. And, although she often complained about work, she felt quite lost, having nothing to do. At least in the GPD, there was always something to fill your day. Every day was the same at home. Caroline would wake her up, by hovering the house, at five in the morning. She would unapologetically apologise, and bake something nice for breakfast to make it up to her. At eleven Caroline had ICT classes, since she insisted on keeping up with the times and refused to be 'one of those pensioners'. This meant that for a few hours, Cassidy had the house to herself. It wasn't too bad, in spite of what she had initially thought. She just basically sat around for a few hours, made herself a couple of expressos in Caroline's new machine, and ate some powdered donuts whilst watching or reading the news. It grew a little dire but was a significant improvement from hospital, so she wasn't complaining. 

Heaving a fustrated sigh, Tenner stuffed her last donut into her mouth as she scanned the list in front of her. One benefit of being absent from work, at least, was that she had her parents death anniversary free. Every year she would have to use one of her her holidays to go visit with flowers. She had made it a tradition to go to visit all eight graves, though she supposed this year it would have to be nine. Henderson hadn't ever been a good friend, or even a good person, but she still felt partially responsible for what had happened. Caroline would probably insist on going with her, but this time Cassidy would stand her ground. There was some kind of solitude in visiting alone, it made her feel more serene and connected with the people she had lost. That connection wouldn't be as strong with someone intruding. 

Jacklynn Tenner  
Henry Tenner  
Jennifer Tenner  
Katrina Woods  
Eli Sanders  
Jack Lennon

She had just reached the seventh name, when a knock on the door distracted her. It was heavy and demanding, like an officer before a raid. When she didn't reply within a split millisecond, they pounded again. Cassidy, who had kind of hoped they would go away, upon being ignored, rolled her azure eyes and stood. "Alright, I'm coming!" She huffed, slamming a single hand down upon the counter and rising. "Calm down". Her bare feet carried her closer to the door, and she tied her robes tighter in an attempt to conceal a little more. The door had stopped banging now, but there was heavy panting outside. Intrigued, she looked through the key hole, but was not prepared for what she saw.

If she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn it was Eli. His thick scraggy hair and peridot gems for eyes, made him an eerie lookalike of her deceased ex. The clone was clutching his side, looking a little battered, with brushing on the left of his face. It seemed like he was leaning all of his weight on the door frame, a clear indication of exhaustion. Everything about the sight felt wrong. She wanted to turn around, thinking if she ignored it that it would no longer exist, but she didn't have the heart to leave him out there alone.

"So you gonna invite me in?" He heaved, through gritted teeth, having heard her presence. "I need-"

She opened the door, and stepped back. To say that she was not a little unnerved would be a lie. "Who are you?" She interrogated, her eyes narrowed, "I'm a GPD trainee, make one wrong move and you're gone".

He laughed, though she couldn't tell whether he was uncomfortable or amused, and rolled his eyes. "Damon Sanders, sweet cheeks. And i need your help, unfortunately, or we're both in trouble".

Sanders. So that is why he looked so much like Eli, they had to be related. He looked way more rugged, and had to be at least five years older. He was too young, clearly, to be his father, but too alike to be a cousin. Eli had never talked much about his family but, from what she assumed, it appeared that he had an elder brother. A brother who, for some reason, seemed to think she was the answer to his problems. Usually she would have asked more questions, but the name was enough to make her move to the side and let him in. He smirked smugly and walked in, not bothering to wait for his host. Sitting at the kitchen island, he downed her scorching fresh poured expresso and placed his head in his hands. Cassidy merely watched in shock, leaning her weight on the door having locked it. "I didn't know Eli had a brother, he never mentioned you," she finally breathed, approaching him warily.

"Yeah? Well, I suppose he was scared that you would find me more attractive," the man joked, shrugging off his black leather and leaning back into his chair. "Say, you don't happen to have anything strong, do you? Like a beer or, you know, vodka?"

"What? No, I-" She paused, her face scrunching. Her eyes scanning him for the first full time since he had entered. Now, the full brutality of his bruising was visible under the light. Whoever had hurt him, they'd done it good and in no way half heartedly. "What are you even doing here? What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied blandly, shaking his head when she replied 'try me'. He didn't know the half of what she had experienced, in this year alone, she thought to herself. Nothing could really surprise her these days.

"Cassidy, I know who killed my brother and your friend".

Except that.


	4. The Game

Cassidy pulled out one of Caroline's rich bottles of whiskey. As she slumped into the stool beside Damon, she slammed it onto the counter. He gave her a wry smile, flipped over two glasses and began to pour a drink. "Yeah," he consoled her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, "I felt the same way".

"I don't get it though. I was there, it was an accident," she began. It was too difficult to be believe. Who would want to murder sweet, innocent Eli? The man who had been at university to learn how to be a paediatrician. He had never held any ill intentions, only ever wanting to help people. Forensics had already examined the crime scene. It had been an accident, there was no evidence of foul play. Then again, who was she to judge? Forensics had also claimed that her parent's death had been an accident, but she still believed otherwise. Who was she to turn down the theory, without even hearing it?

"So, who then? Let's hear it," she responded, raising the glass to her lip and guzzling the liquid. It burned her throat, but felt warm as it settled in her stomach. It melted her angst and anxiety melted away by the second. Running her finger along the edge of the glass, she added, "Is this just like something you've heard, or based on newfound evidence?"

Damon had already downed the remnants of his drink, and began to pour another one. "Something I've heard," he scoffed, like the idea was ridiculous. "Do you even know what I've been through these last few months? I've been messing with the wrong people, Cassidy, in an attempt to find out who would be willing to murder brother. I mean, Eli was-" his voice broke, something that didn't seem familiar to him. He shook his head, refusing to break, and swallowed the tears with another swig of his whiskey. "Your name, you're a popular girl down there, you know?"

"Where?" Cass choked on her drink in response, and coughed agitatedly. 

"Everywhere, no where, and any place in between. You've caught the eyes of some powerful people. You're being watched, a lot," he explained to her, giving a mild shrug upon seeing her face. "I don't know. Don't look at me like that, it's got nothing to do with me".

Cassidy tried to think of the possible people she could have pissed off in high power, but couldn't. All of her life, she'd never ever been the girl to attract attention. She was reserved and quiet, keeping to herself and only opening up to those she felt comfortable with. There had been no occurrences where she had boldly confronted anyone. Sure, she had made some accusations in her prime about her parents' death, but not enough to still be watched to this day. 

"People don't like you. They think that you have too many morals. They see you, your determination for justice, and it makes them uncomfortable. You have enemies... but you also have friends," he continued, "an admirer even".

She snorted, her drink near returning. "An admirer? Oh really?" Cassidy laughed out loud. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds, Damon?" Now, this wasn't fishing for compliments in any way. There was no desire in her head to be told that she was pretty, in some ways she suspected that she wasn't ugly. It just didn't seem realistic that someone in crime would find her attractive. She was a conservative, trying to be sophisticated, sarky cop in training. Somehow, it just didn't seem to be the kind of thing you would expect 'bad guys' to like.

"I'm not joking, Tenner. I'm serious," the glass in Sanders' hand was slammed onto the table. "This person is the only reason that you aren't dead. You're a pawn in his game. I don't know what you did but you've intrigued him-"

"And you expect me to believe this is the reason that your brother is dead?" She hissed, rising from her chair and shaking her head. She wouldn't take the blame for it, she couldn't. "No matter what you think, Damon. I'm not the reason for your brother's death. I know you feel angry, fustrated- I understand, I do. I've experienced it all myself. What happened that night was a tragic accident, nothing to do with me, because-"

"Katrina swerved the car to miss a stray dog. I know the bullshit story, Cassidy," he cut her off, his voice much more calmer than it had been before. "What I'm saying is that you're caught in a game... One that you didn't choose to be involved in. Call it chess, if you will. You're the queen, something to be beaten and a prize to be claimed by the other side. My brother was collateral damage. I have evidence, if you want it. It's how I ended up a bloody mess, to answer your earlier question, but if it'll convince you then it's worth it". He slid a file along the counter, and she immediately grasped it in her trembling hands. 

As the sleek black jacket opened, a picture of a much different Katrina was placed. It was a prison mugshot, no pampering and no make up. No longer did she look lucious or flawless, but a defiant teen who was non-conforming to societal rules. Her hair was chopped short, ending at her chin, and looked as if it hadn't seen a brush in years. The usual flawless complexion was begrimed with dirt stains and an eerie green substance. Under her eyes were dark heavy luggage. Her mouth was held in a manic grin, revealing that she was missing a fair few number of teeth. It was still Katrina, you could tell by the face, the nose and the bone structure, just not the same girl that Cassidy had met. How? She didn't understand. Major work had been put in to her appearance, to make her the girl she would eventually become. 

"Katrina?" She asked, more bewildered than ever. Her eyes flickered up to Damon's face, his own had never moved.

"Katherine Machovich," he corrected, confirming her initial idea. "Convicted murderer. Initially taken to Arkham, as she pleaded insanity, but broken out january 29th 2012. Someone put a lot of effort into transforming her, don't you think?"

Katrina, or Katherine, whatever her real name was, certainly was a different person back then. Still, it didn't confirm anything. She was a convicted murderer, and it truly was suspicious. Piece by piece, things were beginning to add together and forming the bigger picture. The more Damon showed her, the more everything made sense. It would be a lie, to say that she was not embarrassed. Here she had been, the aspiring detective, ignorant to everything that was going on around her. Damon urged her to turn the page, this sheet confirming everything. It was a contract, a contract of elimination. Someone had hired Katrina to kill Cassidy. Eli was never meant to sit in the front seat, but shotgun was shotgun. She could vividly remember now, Kat sulking during the ride, seeming off, pensive.

"But why? Who would want to kill me so bad?" She mumbled more to herself, than anyone. Tears were now visibly streaming down her face. How many people had literally died on her behalf? Her family. Her friends. Her co-workers. As she looked up at Damon, the world around her blurred. Her eyes, and nose, stung bitterly. It felt as if the ground below her very feet was caving in, and she could do nothing about it. "It's because of me. Everything was because of me". The guilt was all consuming, a black hole in her stomach that was ready to engulf her. What could she do now? It was too late to save anyone. "Damon, you need to go. You-" she shuddered at the thought of him being her next victim.

He stood without saying a word, and pulled her into his steady chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, as he cradled her like a lost child. It was a strange thing, for he didn't seem like the kind of man to show much affection or sympathy, but neither thought anything of it. It just seemed natural. "Think about it, Cassidy," he mumbled through her hair, resting his chin on her head. "A man who sees everything as a game? The only person to have ever escaped Arkham, and remained out?"

"... The Joker," she whispered, closing her eyes in fear. They squeezed tightly shut. It was as if she had convinced herself that it was a nightmare that she could wake up from, once she opened them. She didn't. "You need to go, Damon," she repeated, wriggling out of his grip. "I refuse to be responsible for you, too".

"Will you cut it with all of this damsel in distress bullshit, Cassidy. Yeah, this is shit. It sucks, I know. This isn't the end either, but I knew about this, remember? It's why I came," He slipped his jacket back on, and downed the dregs of his drink. "Caroline is the one in danger, if you don't leave now. Me? I've been involved in this shit for too long to be safe anymore. It's just you and me, against the world, baby".

"But, what are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go?" She questioned, now reasonably alarmed at he thought of the old woman becoming a target. There was still no way that she trusted Damon, not yet, but he had shown her enough to convince her. 

"Me and you, we're gonna hunt down this motherfucker, and he's going to pay".


	5. Home Sweet Home?

There was an overwhelming stench, a mix of what could only be described as human urine and marijuana. The ceiling in the hallways hung low, parts of it were missing and it crumbled as you walked beneath it. Throughout the different floors, upon the staircase, where bodies of the homeless - some moving, some not. One particular man, was so unbelievably high, that he ran past the duo up and down the stairs, multiple times, claiming to be escaping a gigantic octopus. The apartment wasn't much better. The smell of bleach was penetrating to your nostrils as you walked in, so much so that it made the world around blurry, but was a significant improvement from outside. In spite of the area it was located in, Damon Sander's had at least attempted to keep his small box-apartment tolerable. The damp walls had been painted, the stained carpet hovered, and the moth eaten curtains had been beaten. No one could say that he had not tried.

"So, this is where you've been hiding out. huh?" Cassidy stated, dropping her heavy bag from her shoulder to the ground. It shook a little beneath her, but she restrained herself from outwardly cowering. Her shoulders flexed a little, having been relieved from the strain that had been placed upon them. "How long have you been here for?"

Damon scrunched his nose in distaste. "It'll be a month, next Tuesday. I never stay a place longer than a month, it stops people from tracking me down". He pulled out a chair, for her, and approached the kitchen (which also seemed to serve as the living and dining room). "Want another drink? I have way stronger shit".

Out of politeness, more than anything, she took her seat and gave him a coy smile. "Please," she nodded, propping her elbows on the counter and resting her head in her hands. "So, you move every month? Where to next then Captain?" Her eyes followed him, as he moved throughout the room. The thoughts of leaving the hell hole she had just entered, soon, were more than appealing. In fact, every single second she spent there, her lust for her old apartment grew stronger and stronger. It was pretty basic, as far as homes went, but it had all her necessities. She knew that when she woke up in the morning, she wouldn't be sharing her bed with cockroaches or rats, or whatever other wonders this place had to offer. This place, well, it made her old flat look like a five star hotel and spa.

"You eager to leave already?" Damon faked a pout, but laughed nonetheless. "I have no clue, sweet cheeks. We have five days here though. Value it, our next destination could be the streets". He pulled out a bottle of pure Russian vodka, and didn't wait around for glasses. Unscrewing the lid, he swigged from the bottle, ignoring the agonizing burning of his oesophagus. Then, half a bottle left, he offered it over to Tenner, and leaned his weight upon the wall behind. "I was thinking, plan wise, that we should recruit a team".

"A team?" Cass replied distractedly, eying the bottle with cautiousness. She didn't mean to be snobbish, but she couldn't help but worry about where it had been and for how long. Finally deciding to guzzle a bit, she placed it back on the counter. "You think people will actually want to help us?" Her voice was sceptical, but she was open to hear everything that he had to say. "What kind of people would they be?"

"Enemies, of the joker, maybe?"

"Like 'The Batman'? You know that he doesn't kill The Joker. He only ever takes him back to Arkham, where he inevitably escapes. It's a never ending game of cat and mouse," She replied, as-a-matter-of-a-factly. "Plus, he'd want to hunt down the villain alone. I don't think he's likely to team up with two societal rejects".

"Commissioner Gordon-"

"Would never believe the crazy ass story," Cass finished his sentence firmly.

Damon sighed heavily. "I say that you go back to work, in the mean time. We don't want to raise any suspicions, or let the Joker notice any difference. We'll just have to figure out a plan as we go along".

"And if we don't?"

His eyes rolled skyward, as he slammed his hand on the counter. "God dammit, Cassidy. Are you ever optimistic?"

"It's a hard thing to be when you're a human death machine. Or, better yet, when your dead boyfriend's brother, looking unnervingly like his sibling, comes knocking on youe door claiming that you 'need to run and hide" in a shit hole," she hissed, rising from her chair angrily. "I'd say that I'm doing a pretty damn good job of holding my shit together, Damon".

"Fuck, you're a bitch and a half. I'm trying to help you, you know?" He followed her, although she was walking with no direction in mind. His hand reached out, yanking her back by her arm. "Look at me, Cassidy". He pushed her against the wall roughly, his hand guiding her face to his own. "Do not make enemies out of your friends. Not when you're already so alone".

"No one is forcing you to help me," She retorted, pushing him back. It had been a little bittle shocking, to be handled so roughly. Her hands hit his torso with a hard impact. "I'm not trying to make an enemy out of you, Damon. I'm stressed, and this isn't going anywhere. Get off me and go to bed".

He paused pensively, considering everything that she had said. Everything had escalated a little too quickly, they were going to get no where in this state. Not only were they stressed but, they were also a bit tipsy. Rubbing his neck, sheepishly, he mumbled, "there's only one bedroom, Cassidy. One bed and, before you ask, no couch. Don't look at me like that. When I agreed to rent this place, I had no thoughts in mind about inviting you over".

The thought of sleeping beside Damon was a daunting one, given that the last man she had slept next to had been his brother. It just didn't feel right at all. Yet, what else could she do? Everything, that had led up to this, all of her circumstances, had put her in this awkward position. Now, she just had to make the best of everything that she had. 

"Ok," she muttered, the thought setting in her head. Then, repeating herself, she said, "OK. Well, I suppose that's gonna have to work, isn't it? See, I'm being optimistic," she faked a smile, feeling a little bad. Damon was trying his best. It wasn't his fault that life had led him to this point. It most certainly wasn't his fault that she was in this situation. If anyone should be pessimistic, or angry at the other, it should be him. She was, after all, the reason for the death of his brother. Reaching out and cupping his face in her hand, she continued, brighter, "Tomorrow, I'll go and see my uncle. After my father died, he inherited the family business. I was supposed to get it - go to school, college, and then take over, but I didn't. He owes me. I'll get some money, some names, and we'll work from there".

"It's a start, I suppose," He replied, now with a clear mind. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No, not really, but I will be. And you?" She asked.

Damon attempted to smile, but looked deflated. "Better than I've been in a while".

"Good. Good, well, uhm," avoiding further eye contact, under his glance, she shuffled a little, "which was is the bedroom?"

"First door on the left, directly in front of you," he nodded. As she turned away, his eyes following her, he added. "Cassidy?"

"Hm?" 

"You won't be sad forever. I promise".


	6. The Joker

"HA! HA! HA!" The manic laugh echoed around the room, every man at the table sunk into their chairs. The joker was anything but amused. The dead man sat in front of them was a clear indication of his mood. "You mean to say," he grunted, licking his lips, "that not one of you senseless idiots knows where the girl is". 

"Mr J," a broodish looking man spoke from the corner, his forehead scrunched, "if I may. The last time she was located, she was in her mother's house. The old lady said that she left a note-"

The joker began to laugh again, this time it started low, like a growl, and significantly became louder and louder. He placed his hand in front of his face, the artificial grin cascading his heavy frown. His eyes glimmered in the dim light, with a spark of ill intentions and destruction to be. "You know what I hate more than a senseless idiot?" He asked rhetorically. The table remained silent. "I can cope with senseless idiots. You're all senseless idiots. No, no, NO. What I don't like is a rambling, senseless idiot". He raised his gun once more, shot the man in the head, then stumbled back in laughter. “Do I look like a guy with a plan to any of you? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it! You know, I just... do things, and it works. Your problem? Your problem is that you ramble too much, think too much".

The Joker sat back in the central chair. He licked his lips tentatively, then moved it around his mouth like he could taste something in there that he didn't like. It was a shame really. In the grand scale of things, these men were replaceable. His show was a circus and the world was his stage, there was always more people to choose from in the crowd. These men in particular were stupid, but they weren't too stupid. They were like monkeys, stupid and senseless, but they were trained monkeys. They could dance and do tricks, because he had taught them to. It would require so much effort to start all over, and he had already killed 3 out of 8 today. Today was not a good day.

It was, in fact, a bad day. You see, the Joker liked that girl. There was great amusement to be found in watching her stumble around naive to the world. Her innocence was mesmerising, and extremely rare. The Tenner girl had a brave façade, but he knew how people worked. She was just a lost child looking for some purpose. There was potential in her too. Her quick temper and vivid imagination were clear indications that she was hanging of the sanity cliff by a mere hand. All it would take is one small push, and madness would intoxicate her delicate body. Yes, he liked her very much, and preferred her very much alive. 

She just wasn't very good at keeping herself alive. Always throwing herself in life threatening situations, it was a bit tiresome for him to have to pull her out all the time. That's just what you do in games though, he supposed, you have to move the pieces right so that you can win. Unfortunately, someone else was also playing to win. It had been months and months, but the Joker still didn't know who his competitior was. 

Never had he been involved in such an intriguing game before. 

And he was not ready for it to finish yet.

"So, what are you going to do, hm?" He shouted, his arms held out. No one spoke, they had all became wise enough to realise that their opinions weren't welcome. "You are going to go out the door. And then, you are going to find her. If you need to kill, kill. You want to explode things? Explode things. You just do it. Do it, and don't think on it. Thinking is predictable". 

"The girl, what do we do when we find her?" The man opposite had summoned enough courage to ask what they were all thinking. 

The Joker broke out into laughter once more. "All this chit chats gonna getcha hurt, buddy". His gun flung into the direction of the corpse, pointing vividly at the dead man. "You think he is much good to me now? What good is a dead man? You can't play with a broken toy," he growled. "Whatever happens to the girl, happens to you all. I don't appreciate other people messing with what is mine". 

The men mumbled their understanding, and left the room rather gloomy looking. So far the outlook wasn't positive. The girl had dropped completely of the radar. For all they knew, she could have been killed a long time ago. One particular man, Jensen, had the balls to ask the others why they thought the infamous Joker - who cares about nothing - was so hellbent on a wannabe cop. They sure as hell had all seen much pretty girls. Yet, Mr J was so fixated on this one in particular. None of them could understand, and none of them answered. One simply mumbled that it was best if they didn't care. Every single one of them had seen what happened when you thought to much on things.

There were some things in life that are just accepted. Gravity keeps everything in place. The Earth orbits the sun. Summer comes after spring. Those are a few of many things that just happen. You can attempt to explain them all, how the concepts of them began, but it's complicated, boring. It's easier to just accept than to understand. The Joker's obsession with the Batman, and the Cassidy girl, was just one of these things. It was something that even he had to accept, and never question. 

He knew exactly when it had started though. The first time he had heard about her, he had found such great amusement. A fourteen year old girl determined to take on the villains of Gotham, fighting for justice. A mere girl, it was comical. Who would fear a teenage girl? No one. The answer was no one. It had been funny to watch her hopeless. 

Yet, as the days passed, she became more and more dedicated. Her older age meant that people began to take her serious. Bad people began to worry. Shit began to happen. People began to die. She still prevailed. It was beautiful, thrilling to watch. He wondered how long it would be until she killed her first person, lost a bit of that overwhelming innocence of her's. That was something he craved to see, and right now circumstances blocked him from doing so.

She would eventually kill someone, he knew it. He was never wrong about people; they were so predictable.  
It was just a matter of when, but he couldn't help wondering who. Who would be her first kill? He knew who she would want to murder, but that wasn't possible. There just simply was no way, that she could kill the person responsible for her parents death. It just couldn't happen. 

He laughed at the misery.


	7. Saviour

"I'm here to see, Mr Marcello". 

The blonde secretary looked up, peering through her thick lashes, and nodded her head. "Name, please?"

"Cassidy Tenner. Oh, I don't have a meeting though. He's my uncle," Cass smiled, reassuringly. Then added, for emphasis, "it's urgent family business". 

Blondie shook her head, scowling. "No meeting, no entrance," she said, beginning to type on her computer. Cassidy watched her, chewing her gum thoughtfully. Blondie's eyes were now locked on the computer, as if ignoring Cassidy would make her dissapear.

In the reflection of her eyes, Cass could see clearly the sign "Facebook". It was impossible to restrain from scoffing, "Facebook, really? I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that in work hours," she read the name tag aloud, "Linda".

Linda did not seem to take well to criticism, she narrowed her eyes to address the brat and ceased to move the computer mouse. "Was that a threat, Ms. Tenner?" She asked, her eyes held in an icy glare. "I hope it wasn't. I would hate to have you permanently barred from entering this building, or ask my friend there to kick you out". Linda removed her round glasses, using them to point out a rather bulky looking man. "Jeff isn't known for being delicate," she smirked wryly.

"No," Cassidy mumbled. "No, I'm sure he's not...  
Can I at least leave a message? Is there a number I can use?" Her lips pressed together in a slight frown. It was a last resort, and the chances were that he would never get the message. Even if he did, would he bother to get in touch? William Marcello had ensured to avoid his brothers child at all costs, since the man had died. It was as if he knew one day that she would come, asking for a favour. Being spoiled his whole life, Marcello didn't take too well to favours. He liked the idea of being the big boss, thrived of it. The idea of owing someone sickened him, and he most certainly owed Cassidy Tenner. 

Linda had just opened her mouth to speak, when the man came through the doors. He was with three others, and they all paused to shake hands firmly. A business deal, no doubt, Cassidy assumed. She really didn't want to invade, but did she have much of a choice? This may be her only opportunity to talk. Mumbling her appreciation to the secretary (though Linda hadn't been much help, manners didn't cost anything), she flattened out her dress with her sweaty palms and approached the man, a fake smile clung to her face. 

"Gentleman," she nodded her head, "uncle. I'm very sorry to interrupt. I do hope you don't think me too rude. I just have an urgent problem that must be discussed, if you can spare me a moment, Mr. Marcello".

"Cassidy. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he said upon seeing her, but the words were in no way voiced with pleasure. His two brows knitted together, his forehead scrunched. He turned to address the main gentleman, and nodded his head apologetically. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Falcone". The businessman waved his hand, gesturing that he was free to go. It was no problem. The two headed back through the doors that he had previously entered through. 

Having closed them, firmly, behind him, Marcello removed his mask. The was no fake smiles and no artificial happiness, he no longer looked welcoming but Cassidy preferred him this way. This was true business, no sugar coating anything. They weren't here to be friends, they were here to talk. "What do you want?" He hissed, knowing that they were now alone. "You dissapear for years, and I think I am free, but you still return". 

"I'm in trouble, William. I need your help," she mumbled, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "You know I would ask if I didn't have to". 

"Then ask Caroline. She's meant to be your new mummy dear, isn't she?" He retorted, crossing his arms. "I won't have you rubbing dirt on my name. Not now, I've made it now".

Cassidy grabbed his neck tie, pulling him close. Her teeth tightened, and her eyes narrowed. The man choked a little, but did not wimper. "Listen here, old man. You don't forget who helped you up, once you're at the top. I'm in trouble with bad people, and you know what they say? Do you?" He didn't answer, and she tightened her grip on him. "They say it takes one to know one". Her hand released him, and he immediately straightened his suit. She wasn't quite sure what had taken over her, never would she have acted so bold before. Perhaps it was because she was acting out of desperation, or maybe hard times were revealing a new, darker her. 

"What do you want? What will it take to get rid of you?" He hissed, fixing his tie. The look of anger and frustration was gone. In its place was a look that she did not quite recognise, something that she had never caused but felt often. It was pure fear. Whether he feared for his life, his reputation, or his money, she would never know. It was there all the same. She had seen it, and wouldn't forget it any time soon. 

"I need money. I also need a few contacts, names of people who can help-"

"Who could I possibly know that could help you? You said it yourself, you're in with bad people. I'm a business man," he excused, heading towards the door. "Plus, you don't need money. You get 20% of business revenue". His hand placed on the handle, but as he pulled on the door, she pushed it back. 

"Money that I can't access. If they locate me, I'm dead, William".

"Well, you'll just have to be quick about it, won't you? " he spat. The thought of her dead in a ditch probably wasn't too unappealing to him, now that she thought about it. It was a lost cause, he wasn't going to help - not now, not ever. Defeated, she withdrew her hand from the door and frowned. 

Marcello exited, but soon paused in his tracks.  
"There is one man. They call him Penguin. He can help, but he'll want something in return. Knowledge, power, a favour. You'll owe him, which is pretty dangerous. Then again, you already are in danger, right? What harm could it do?"


	8. Penguin

"His name is Penguin," Cassidy stated, sliding into the passenger seat.

Damon revved the engine, placing a firm hand on her leg and squeezing it reassuringly. She attempted to smile, but failed, which was not missed by the older man. "Hey, you did good. Don't worry," he consoled her. "Did your uncle give you an address?" She didn't answer, but handed him the sheet of paper. It was an Uptown Gotham address, which was not at all what he had expected. He was used to dealing with lowly criminals. They were easy to get rid off, if necessarily. This Penguin guy just seemed like bad news. Saying nothing, he entered the postcode into the SatNav and began to drive. Telling Cassidy would just worry her. At the end of the day, a criminal was a criminal, no matter how wealthy they were, right? 

"You suit being dressed like that," he added, keeping his eyes on the road. She blushed heavily, and rubbed her bare neck childishly. 

"Like what, in proper clothes?" 

"Yeah, all posh in your pretty dress, your hair up. You look sophisticated... Beautiful," he continued, smirking as she squirmed nervously. It was clear that she hadn't been complimented in a while, but he wasn't lying. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Her hair was tied back neatly in a smart woven bun, revealing every arch of her porcelain face. Nothing was in the way, her eyes shone brightly like the sun on a cloudless day, a enchanting shade of green. Better yet, her black suit dress clung to her small curved figure. She was art, in an exhibit that was all his. Only, it wasn't. Although he enjoyed taunting her, Damon knew that he shouldn't compliment her. He just had eyes that worked and was understandably attracted to her, she liked him too. Yet, she didn't. The only reason that she found him attractive was because he looked like his brother, but he could never be Eli. She would never like him for just him, and he couldn't be someone he wasn't.

It was a dangerous game, but it always had been. Not only were they fighting for their lives, but now he was fighting himself. It was an internal battle of respect against lust. He wasn't sure who'd win. Every second he spent in her presence, his lust grew stronger, became a more likely candidate. Sleeping with her in his arms hadn't helped at all. It made him feel attached. Watching her sleep made him truly see how vulnerable and broken she was. At that moment, all he had wanted to do was hold her so tight that her broken pieces fit together again, and protect her from all of her problems.

Now, in daylight, he knew that he could never do either. Cassidy Tenner had too many problems to solve, and too many pieces to glue. She was her own biggest enemy, as she pushed others away in fear and isolated herself purposely. Not only that but, she would forever be Eli's girlfriend. He knew it. He knew that he would never compare. For that reason, on top of others, he would simply do this for his brother and not her. He promised himself that if it came to a choice between justice and her life, he would choose justice. That was the only thing that truly mattered.

When the car finally pulled up at the luxury apartments, it came to a stop. First, they would have to pass security that was on the door. If Cassidy's uncle had done as requested, then they should be able to breeze past. Of course, the weapons would have to remain in the car. His trusty knife, on the other hand, would stay in his boot just in case. 

Damon got out of the car, and then chivalrously let Cass out, assisting her with his arm. One of the guards oogled her so much that his eyes nearly fell out of his head and, sickened, he protectively wrapped his arm around her waist. The two approached together, as they tried to enter the guards stopped them. "Name?" Asked the man with wondering eyes.

"We should be on the list," she smiled, attempting to stay calm. "Cassidy Tenner".

The man nodded. He clicked his pen and scribbled something down. "Yeah, you're on the list alright. Your friend isn't. No name, no entrance, kapeesh?" 

Damon growled, his hand squeezing her waist in frustration. Tenner squirmed from his grip, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Before she could speak, he stopped her. "Just try not to die," he muttered, his heart unintentionally on his sleeve. "I need you. You are the good, I need a little good in my life. Because without it, there's an awful lot of darkness". Unable to say anything, she nodded. "I'll be in the car, Cass. Don't act impulsively".

"Impulsively, me?" She laughed. "There I was thinking that was your thing".

The bulkier man began to lead her away, but she stopped and pulled back. "Damon!" She twiddled with her fingers. "Sit tight, please. I need you too".

 

***

Having been searched and stripped of weapons, she properly entered. Penguin's building was classy. The marbled floors, with matching walls, were pristine. Every ceiling was high, and sparkling white. The LED lights were blinding, so bright that she had to squint to see.

The two, guard and girl, reached an elevator that they had to take to the top floor. Even this was expensive, Cassidy noted, as it was all mirrored. The penthouse was no disappointment, surpassing expectations given having seen the first floor, and ressembled something of a palace.

They walked until they reached two grand doors. This was when the guard knocked nervously, which was a strange sight to see on a guy so big. A much smaller, crooked looking man answered, then smiled. His penguin black hair was spiked, but not styled. It was similar to feathers. His nose was crooked like a sharp beak, his chin pointed too. The eyes in his head were alert, observant to everything. The guard beside her bowed, upon seeing him, and kissed his ring. Both glanced Cassidy's way. It was eerie to see a big guy succumb to a man five foot or so, smaller than even her. She looked around, kind of perplexed, then decided to copy and attempted to curtsey. Penguin stopped her before she could. 

"There is no need to bow. Please, stand. Follow me," he waddled towards a luxurious sitting area, and sat down upon the rouge sofa. His hand patted the seat beside him, and reluctantly she sat. "You must be wondering about who I am. I'm Penguin. The king of Gotham. Your turn".

Smoothing her dress, she placed her hands on her lap. "I'm Cassidy Tenner. My uncle said he was going to ring ahead-"

"Yes, Miss Tenner. I know what you are called, but who are you?" He asked, as if the two sentences had no correlation. It was rather bizarre to have been asked, but Cass tried to shield her initial reaction. Who was she? There never had been too much time to focus on this in her life. Everything had always been about fighting for justice, about her parents. Losing family was a wound that she had not yet recovered from. 

"Im a fighter," she replied blandly. "I know what I want, when I want it, and I'm prepared to do anything to get it".

Penguin smiled cunningly. "A fighter, I like it. Who, may I ask, are you fighting?" He continued to delve. "It has always been a popular belief of mine that perhaps it is not out friends who define us, but our enemies? Who are your enemies, Miss Tenner?"

That one wasn't as difficult. "Isn't everyone my enemy?" She paused. "My enemy is injustice. I'm fighting for revenge for my loss".

A butler came over, popping a bottle of champagne, and filled two glasses. Both sides of the conversation accepted them politely. When no one was looking, Cass nervously smelled hers. There was no sign of poisoning. Penguin, who had caught her twitching, tilted his head. "You dont trust me, Miss Tenner? Do you think I would position you? Here was little old me thinking that we were friends," he grimaced. "I like to help my friends". When she thought that he had finished, Cassidy opened her mouth to object, but he continued. "When I kill someone, which is fairly often to be frank, I like it to be honest. I like the people who disappoint me to have disappointing ends. Horrifying ends".

"I didn't mean to cause offence, Sir-"

"No, no. It's always good to be cautious," he mumbled, bitterly. "You do not need to defend yourself. It is my turn to speak anyway". Was it ever not Penguins turn to speak? "You see, Miss Cassidy. You're my friend, do you know why?" She shook her head timidly. He was beginning to scare her. Now she understood why the six foot five guard he been intimidated by his presence. "You're my friends friend. He's here now actually. We made a deal, you see... He was so excited to see you, I just couldn't say no. Why, it's a wonder he has been so quiet until now... Do come out, good friend!"

A manic laugh brought Cassidy to her feet, turning sharply with fear. 

"Hellooo Cassidy," the Joker sang melodically, a huge grin crept upon his face . "I've waited too long for this re-union. I'm disappointed".


	9. Truth or Dare

Cassisdy's eyes scanned her surroundings. There was two henchmen on the doors that she had entered through. The opposite wall was completely glass, providing a night skyline view of Gotham. She could exit through there, but not alive. There was no way that she could survive an one hundred and eighty-three metre drop unaided. Sure, she was lucky - but no one was that lucky. Penguin had at least eight men in his room, just waiting around. Who knew how many men had came with the Joker. She wondered if this had been a set up all along, had her uncle been in cahoots with the Clown Prince of Crime? It would make sense for him to want her dead. What about Damon? Was he safe outside?

"This was a set up!" Cassidy declared, grinding her teeth. She glared misty-eyed at the Penguin. "You set me up".

Penguin shook his head. "You hurt me," he taunted, clutching his chest. "How could you think so little of me? I merely invited a friend over. I don't know who you are or who you're running from".

"Yeah?" She asked, her body pumping with rage. The very blood through her veins was boiling, and she could feel herself ready to explode. "Well I'm running from him, and he's going to kill me". Her eyes flickered back to the windows. If she could throw herself out of them, a little to the right, she had a chance of grasping the fire escape. It was a small possibility but it had to work, it was the only choice. Without a single thought, she yanked the chair nearby and flung it at the window. To her surprise, it didn't smash. Bulletproof, she hadn't even thought about that.

The Joker had burst into fits of laughter, highly amused at her struggle. Penguin merely tittered, and with a click of his finger she was seized by a pair of his men. Despite her struggle, there was no possibility of wriggling free. One man gagged her, consequently spat at, before. The other cuffed her hands behind her back.

"Ooh! I like this. This is fun," the Joker sang, flashing a cheeky wink her way. "Listen, sweet cheeks. Killing would be no fun. Smile!" He paused to swallow, "I don't wanna kill ya. I just wanna hurt ya really, really bad".

Cassidy wasn't sure if it was his face, or just his particular make up that night, but she couldn't recall seeing a happier man. A grin was sketched on his face from ear to ear, reaching his eyes that held a mischievous spark. He didn't want to hurt her. Then, what about the failed assassination, or the deaths of everyone around her? Was she supposed to think them all coincidences? Well, she couldn't anymore. 

Penguin frowned. "I don't want no blood spilled on my carpet, Mr. J. It stains," he warned the Joker, who had raised his hands mocking surrender. Then, he turned to Cassidy. "Listen, fighter. This isn't personal. Really, it isn't. I just had a deal already. I stay out of his business, and he stays out of mine. Not that I'd expect you to understand, but... It doesn't matter. Life goes on. Mine will, at least".

Cassidy attempted to say something back, to scream, but it was no avail. The gag muffled her cries. The Joker saluted Penguin playfully. "No blood stains, got it. Anything else?" The King of Gotham watched the girl for a moment. Seeing her in his own apartment, so distraught, was kind of melting to his Arctic heart. It reminded him of the night that he had lost his dear old mother. If the rumours were right, him and this girl were not too different. Both of them had lost their parents, the only people who had ever truly love them. They were both left alone in this world.

For a moment, Cassidy could see the hesitation, the regret, in his dark eyes, but it was swiped away. Penguin shook his head. "No. Just be gone when I get back. Like I said. You stay out of my business, I stay out of yours". Placing on his bowl hat, and pulling up his collar, penguin used his umbrella to help him waddle to the door. Cassidy was left to the Joker's discretion. 

"Well. At long last, I'm so glad you could make it to dinner," The joker taunted. "Will you be having tea or coffee?" She attempted to tell him where he could stick both of them, but was again muffled. "What was that, darling? I couldn't quite hear you, you seem to have a problem". He broke into laughter. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Let's play a game, hm? Do you like games? Oh, wait". He moved the gag from her face, and she spat at him instantly. "That was surprisingly satisfying," he added. She screamed. Consequently, he rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't waste your lungs. No one in here is gonna come save ya, princess. Anyway, games, do ya like 'em?"

"No," she grunted. "I'm tired of games. They are for keeping children occupied, and maniacs like you". There was no injury from her insult, his smile merely deepened. Not that she would have guessed it possible. His tongue clicked around his mouth, and he approached her observantly, like she was a wild animal at a circus.

His lips touched her forehead, kissing her lightly, before breaking apart to release a low chuckle. "There, there. I know you're angry, but you forget that you are a child. How old are you, like 19?" 

"28," her wrists stung from scraping against the metal cuffs in a sad attempt for freedom. "I'm probably older than you are. I act it anyway, Joker. That's your name, right?" Her voice was filled with hatred and bitterness.

"Call me what ya want, princess. J would be fine".

"Okay, J. Suppose I was going to play a game, what kind of game would we play?" She questioned, trying to see through his plan. 

He flashed his teeth in a toothy grin. "That's the spirit. Truth or dare, but with a twist. You can't do truth after truth, and you get two options for dare - yes, I'm feeling kind of generous". 

Cassidy glanced at the door. Soon enough, Damon would realise that something was wrong. He would come to help her. All she had to do was stall the Joker. "Okay, but only if you play too". 

"Hm," he contemplated the idea, then nodded. "Deal. You first, truth or dare?"

"Truth".

"Shitbag," he pouted. "Fine. If you could kill one person, anyone at all - but you have to give a name and no, it can't be me. Who would it be?"

The reality of this person being killed was very likely. She had to choose wisely. He was trying to back her into a wall. His next trick would be to dare her to do it. It was obvious. "Penguin," she smiled, not giving in to him. Two could play at this little game. "What about you?"

"So, this is how we're gonna play it. Fine. I'd quite like to slit the throat of that toy boy you've been pouncing around with. Maybe give him a smile," he gestured to his scars. "I don't like people who never smile. Dare, then?" He rubbed his hands together, and sat down on the sofa. Having done so, he gestured to the seat opposite him. "Sit," he commanded. Her eyes flickered to the two big men behind her, and begrudgingly she sat. "Good girl. Shall we start off easy? Okay... Kiss me". 

Jaw dropping, she had to pinch herself to check if this was reality. The Joker really knew how to grind down on people. He probably knew that she hadn't kissed anyone since Eli. A strange thought, it was, to think about how long he had probably been watching her. She wasn't about to give in, not just yet. So far it wasn't too hard to distract him, there was nothing too sinister about it. "Fine," she replied, standing from her chair. Slowly, she made her way towards him and sat upon his lap. Her hands tied behind her back still, she couldn't do much to harm him. Not enough before the guards got her. This way, in any manner, she was closer to strike than before. 

Her lips met brushed his own lightly. She noted he tasted like peppermint and strawberries, though the strawberry was probably his lipstick. How bizarre. He kissed her back violently, deepening the kiss. His hand intertwined in her hair, roughly pulling her towards him, and his other wrapped around her waist. What had initially started off small had quickly escalated. Recovering her self restraint, Cassidy managed to pull back and bump him off. He released another manic laugh, but this time he sounded more uncertain than amused. "Your turn, tuts," he growled.

Cassidy thought about daring him to let her go free, but decided against it. Right now, he was calm. She didn't want to agitated him. "Unchain me," she dared. The Joker smirked, commenting that she was too predictable. In spite of his guards' warnings, he pulled the key from his pocket and carelessly unlocked the handcuffs.

"Too easy," He sang. "Truth next, I suppose? Hm, let me think. Since we're being so boring, I'll repeat my question but better. If you had to kill three people - but no criminals - who would you pick?".

Cassidy winced. This had caught her out. She had thought that they were passed that question. "I don't know," she mumbled.

The Joker didn't take well too that answer, he pulled a blade out from nowhere and shoved it against her pretty little neck. "Them, or you. Say it was a matter of life or death. About 2 minutes," he threatened with a deranged smile, small drops of blood were already visible. "Tick tock goes the clock".

"William Marcello. Commissioner Loeb," she paused, trying to think of anyone who had ever wronged her. There wasn't anyone, no one worthy of death. Who was she to decide? There was one boy, who had mugged her a long time ago. It wasn't his fault though, she had never reported it. He was homeless and desperate, and probably needed that money much more than her. In her desperation, she cried, "Cale Pike". 

"Truth, lucky me. Ask away!" He removed the blade from her neck, but kept it at hand. There was no way that he was putting it where she could grab it. Still shaken up from the last round, Cassidy rubbed her wound sorely. There was an alarming red stain upon her two fingers, and she gulped nervously. It would better not to keep him waiting. He hadn't cut her too deep, that hadn't been his intention. 

"Did you kill anyone I love? Before you say that's to vague, I have a list. My parents, sister, ex boyfriend, best friend..." She stopped to analyse his reaction. He remained as calm and collected as always, as calm as an insane man could be anyway.

"No," his reply was monosyllabic. "Time for the exciting part..." She pushed him against the couch hard in retaliation. The guards came hustling over but he waved them back, laughing wildly. "Kinky. I like it. Me-ow".

"Don't lie to me, Joker!"

"I told you," he laughed it off. "Call me, J. We're all friends here. Besides, I'm not lying, where is the fun in that? The game is truth or dare, not lie or dare. I'm a little free, but I like to stick to my own rules with games".

"Liar".

"Cassidy. Alice, I mean. Can I call you Alice? You remind me a bit of Alice in Wonderland? Except, well, you haven't got manners or the nice blonde hair. I wouldn't mind blonde, you should try it," he stated joyously. Then, yawned. "Anyway, Alice, I didn't kill your parents or anyone else. That's the intriguing part, the mystery. You see I'm in another game with a mystery person. You're the prize. I like you much better alive, but they fancy you dead. Whoever they are, they killed them all". He waved it off like it was no big deal. "Back to the game then, shall we?"

She believed him. Although, she wasn't quite sure why on earth that she would trust a green haired megalomaniac who had killed more people than the amount that resided in Alaska. The thing was, the Joker knew that he was a criminal. He took pride in his crimes, his art. There was no reason for him to lie about it. Her mind failed her now though, too stunned to summon any words. So, he continued on her behalf. "Dare, my favourite. Okay, I dare you to go and kill those three people. Don't look at me like that, it could have been one but you wanted to play more". 

"You can't make me kill them," she stated plainly, closing her eyes. 

Like he often did, the Joker laughed. Silence befell as he placed his lips on her own, once again. He pulled her in towards him, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands slid down to her waist, holding her firmly. This time she was so lost that she couldn't pull back, it was him who stopped. What the fuck was wrong with her? How could he do that? Her face burned with embarrassment.

"I can do anything I want, Alice. You're mine, and I own you. My men are everywhere, always," he stood from the sofa, "do you really think I can't catch you again? You have 24 hours to do it, before the toy boy dies. 48, mama dearest. After three days, well... you won't live that long. Not if you don't obey me. I am, after all, the only one keeping you safe". 

She sat blankly. Her brain too frazzled to even comprehend what was going on. Surely this wasn't real life? 

"Goodnight, puddin'. I look forward to continuing our game".


End file.
